


Like Broken Glass

by AndiiErestor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bring tissues, Broken Wings, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, broken halo, castiel loves the idiot anyway, dean regrets his life choices, hurting everywhere, mostly just hurt though, self-sacrificing idjits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 05:47:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9805247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndiiErestor/pseuds/AndiiErestor
Summary: [ Inspired by Sam and Dean's reactions to the appearance of Benjamin's wings. Coda 12x10. ]Dean can't believe it's been this long since he's seen Castiel's wings. He can't believe he hasn't thought to ask before now.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr: [officieldestiel](http://officieldestiel.tumblr.com)

His breath had nearly left him completely when they’d entered the bar to find the ashy residue of wings on the far wall. How long had it been since they’d seen such a mark anywhere? Years. At least five years. Since the fall of the angels.

 

Dean felt guilt and shame flood him. He hadn’t forgotten in the typical sense of the word, more like they’d been so busy, all of them, Cas included, that it hadn’t been the focus since then. And _so much_ had happened since then: the Mark of Cain, the Darkness, Lucifer, Cas – rising and falling and rising and falling again. That hit him hardest. _Castiel_. How could he have forgotten in any sense? How could he have forgotten to ask? _Oh, that’s right… No chick-flick moments._ It was his own stupid rule that prevented him from finding out how those closest to him were doing. If he’d let Cas stay in the bunker, they would have known about Gadreel much sooner. If he’d spoken to Cas after their trip to hell, he would have known about... _He should have known to begin with!_

 

Dean hated himself for letting someone he – someone like Cas suffer so much at his expense. And yet, Cas had learned that from them, hadn’t he? From Dean and Sam. They were always sacrificing themselves for each other or because of each other, under the guise of it being for the sake of family. Family didn’t do that. Family mourned. It was more than that, but looking into it would mean looking at his _feelings_ and Dean was never great at doing that. He was good at looking at the result of keeping them bottled up. That’s what he was looking at now. Rather, that’s what he imagined he was looking at. Sure, he still thought angels were dicks… For the most part, but Castiel? He just couldn’t think that about the guy. Not when… After _everything_.

 

That’s what those marks on the wall reminded him of: _everything_. They reminded him of every time Castiel had asked him for help only to be turned down. They reminded him of every time he’d shown up too late. They reminded him of every time he’d failed his best friend – the only person who’d ever held the title. Sam was his brother. John was his father. Mary was his mother. But _Castiel_ …

 

Castiel, Angel of the Lord.

 

Castiel, who gripped him tight and raised him from perdition.

 

Castiel, whose wings were injured in rescuing Dean from hell, but never said a word against him for it.

 

Castiel, whose wings had to be as badly broken as Benjamin’s, but never said a word against him for it.

 

Dean looked at the shape on the far wall of the bar and nearly wept – for the struggles, for the pain and for the suffering of his best friend – all so well hidden under that perfect mask with the late Jimmy’s face. He resigned to ask Castiel about it later. Of course, they were still “fighting” now, so it would be inappropriate. They were still trying to find out why Benjamin had called out for Castiel in the first place, so it would be inappropriate to ask now.

 

_Not to mention they were currently posing as FBI and it would probably bite them in the ass very quickly if Dean just turned around and asked Cas,“Hey buddy, how’s the wings?”_

 

So Dean sighed, and looked at the ashy wings on the wall with determination and carried on with their investigation. He wouldn’t forget this. He’d waited long enough. Turning to toward Sam as Castiel spoke to the bartender, he saw that his brother seemed to be thinking something similar. Sam was squinting at Castiel’s back like he couldn’t believe how natural and fluid Cas’s movements were when – if that what really what his wings looked like – he ought to have been howling in pain.

 

 _Good_ , well not _good_ , but at the very least if Sam was curious about it as well, it would be easier to bring up and make it seem natural. Now all he had to do was wait until this was all over and they got back to the bunker. Until then, he would make sure he never forgot the shape of the ashy wings on the wall.

 

xxx

 

They were back at the bunker. Finally.

 

Beers were passed around with a call of, “You earned it,” from Dean to Castiel.

 

“This will do very little for me,” Castiel said, taking the bottle offered to him, “but I appreciate the gesture.”

 

“What Ishim said,” Dean sat across from Castiel at the table, “You’re not weak, Cas. You know that, right?”

 

Castiel looked away, his learned self-deprecation making him almost incapable of taking a compliment.

 

To which Sam added, “I mean, obviously you’ve changed, but it’s all been for the better, man.”

 

“And you have been with us every step of this long, crazy thrill ride,” Dean continued, “and no matter how crazy it got, you never backed down.”

 

“And that takes real strength,” Sam.

 

“Thank you,” Castiel nodded, turning back to Dean.

 

“Cas, I don’t like how the whole Billy-thing went down, ‘kay? I know you thought you were doing the right thing, and I’m not mad. I’m worried,” Dean stressed the word. It wasn’t often he spoke sincerely and openly like this, and he wanted to make this clear. “’Cause things like ‘cosmic consequences’ have a habit of biting us in the ass.”

 

“I know they do,” Castiel agreed – he’d been there for most of it, “but I don’t regret what I did, even if it costs me my life.”

 

Sam shook his head, “Don’t say that, man.”

 

“What’ll you do if you find Kelly and uh… Lucifer junior?” Dean asked. “It _is_ a Nephilim, right?”

 

“Oh, no, it’s more than that,” Castiel said with a casual tone that betrayed the topic at hand. “An ordinary Nephilim is one of the most dangerous beings in all of creation, but one that’s fathered by an archangel – the Devil himself? I… I can’t imagine the power.”

 

“But Cas, at the end of the day it’s a mom and her kid,” Sam interjected. “I mean, do you think you’ll be able to…”

 

“There was a time when I wouldn’t have hesitated,” a sarcastic smile graced Castiel’s lips, “but now I don’t know.”

 

“So what’re we gonna do?” Dean glanced around the room at the others.

 

“Let’s drink,” Castiel held up his bottle in a sad toast, “and hope we can find a better way.”

 

xxx

 

They sat in a comfortable silence for a while after that. Dean polished off first one, then two beers while contemplating how to approach the subject of Castiel’s wings. He knew that Cas’s true form would burn out his and Sam’s eyes, but there had to be a way to know, even if it was just asking for the truth.

 

He sat and thought about it for so long, he was almost sure the others would have gone off to bed, but they didn’t. Maybe his thoughts were just running through his head too quickly. He thought to ask about the entire process – when Cas had first suffered injuries to his wings, when he’d gotten them back, when they’d gotten so bad. He thought about beating around the bush for propriety’s sake. He thought about avoiding the subject altogether, but no, he had to do this.

 

With a deep breath, Dean resolved to get the hardest part out first.

 

“Cas,” he hesitated but forced the words out – still honest, “I’m sorry.”

 

Sam turned to look at him curiously, but Dean ignored him. If he payed too much attention to his brother being in the room, he would chicken out and they would never manage to have this conversation.

 

Castiel’s own confusion at the apology was apparent, “What do you have to be sorry for?” It was his understanding that Dean’s words in their previous conversation had been an apology in their own way, but that conversation was over. It had ended when none of them had come up with anything more to add for several minutes. This meant that either Dean felt particularly terrible for chastising him – enough to revive the conversation after so much time, an awkward affair he was told – or that Dean was in fact speaking of something entirely different.

 

“Your wings,” Dean started again slowly, “You – Benjamin’s… Your wings can’t look much better than that, and it’s like… We let ourselves get so wrapped up in everything else. _I_ let myself forget about it, and I _wanted_ to think about everything else because I didn’t want to think about all the absolute _shit_ we – _I –_ put you through, and I’m sorry about that, Cas. I’m sorry.”

 

“My wings don’t look like Benjamin and Ishim’s wings,” Castiel commented casually, again, too casually, but it didn’t seem to catch on for Sam.

 

“Really?” Sam asked almost excited, almost relieved, until he saw the look on Castiel’s face, and the grimace on Dean’s.

 

Dean’s heart sank at Castiel’s words. There was _no_ way his wings could look any better than Benjamin’s. He’d said so himself, hadn’t he? Benjamin had _cared_ for his vessel – loved her, in a way. And not caring for himself wouldn’t have done her physical form any good, so they had to be as well-kept as they could, and if an angel who’d only experienced one fall looked like _that_ …

 

_Worse._

“They’re… Worse,” Castiel admitted in a low voice, ashamed. After all they’d just said to reassure him, he still thought so little of all the sacrifices he’d made.

 

“Can – I mean,” Dean paused to gather himself, “I know _seeing_  them would _flambé_ the jellies right out of our skulls, but… Is there a way you can show us? Is there anything we can do?”

 

“I could show you in the same fashion I have previously,” Castiel mumbled the rest, “or I could manifest them, _but that would also_   _show_ –”

 

“Hey, yeah,” Sam jumped on board, “That way, y’know, we could see ‘em properly and if there’s anything we can help with…”

 

“I – I suppose,” Castiel stuttered and placed his empty beer bottle on the table before standing.

 

He took a few steps away from the brothers and into the wide open area of the room before he began to remove his coat. He shrugged it off at the same time as his suit jacket and came forward again to place them on the back of the chair he’d previously occupied. He pulled off his tie next before unbuttoning his dress shirt.

 

Dean swallowed nervously as he watched Castiel move. Now wasn’t the time, he knew that, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t admire the goods – Cas. He was definitely staring. He kinda hoped it wasn’t making Cas too uncomfortable, but at the same time, hadn’t Cas always done the same to him?

 

Finally, the shirt was removed and Castiel stood before the Winchester brothers, looking at them almost expectantly. No, _actually_ expectantly.

 

“What’s up, Cas?” Sam asked. “Do you nee –”

 

“While I can manifest my wings as physical limbs, it will require some grace to perform the act. You may both want to close your eyes or turn your backs.”

 

Sam nodded before turning around while Dean simply sat back and closed his eyes, giving Castiel a last reassuring smile before doing so.

 

Castiel took several deep breaths, the kind of breaths you take before you blow up a balloon. He took several deep breaths and when he exhaled on a sigh his wings rolled off his back like a soft waterfall, a few old feathers falling to the ground as he stretched. He was sad to see them go, but there wasn’t much to be done about them; he couldn’t well stick them back on. The lights in the room dimmed, but only in comparison to the light shining from above him in broken fragments.

 

Dean opened his eyes before Sam turned around, and his heart jumped into his throat before it plummeted. If there was ever a sight to break his heart, it was this. He’d watched his mother burn. He’d seen his brother die, time and time again, but this? This took the cake. And Sam, it would seem, agreed with him, if the look on his face was anything to go by.

 

There Cas stood, with two giant appendages coming out of his back – like a weird extra pair of arms – and a broken disk hovering above and slightly behind his head. That killed him. With all the crazy shit they’d seen, Dean could almost imagine that the wings might have appeared on anyone given the right circumstances – maybe a bird-human chimaera – but that disk? _Castiel’s halo_. It hung there a few inches from his head, a light golden hue that wasn’t too yellow to seem ostentatious, but not gold enough to seem concrete. It was a reminder that who they were looking at was, in fact, an angel. It looked more like glass – like broken glass – than a solid gold ring, the way some images would have had them believe. It gave off light, but while it normally would have just cascaded down upon the angelic vessel of choice, it now bounced off in every direction, each broken fragment acting like a different light source.

 

Sam was already moving toward Castiel, inspecting his injuries, but Dean was frozen in place. He felt like those shards of glass impaled him every time he took a breath. He felt like his whole world was turned upside-down, like the first time he’d seen Castiel in the barn at Bobby’s. He felt like it _was_  the first time he was seeing Castiel. 

 

How Sam, the most devout of anyone either of them knew personally, could gaze upon Castiel’s broken form and _not_  be tearing up, was beyond Dean. He’d always laughed at the stories they’d read during their research, about grown men crying at the sight of an angel, but now he understood them. How could you not cry at the sight of something so magnificent?

 

Through the tears burning his eyes, Dean could see the shape of Castiel’s wings, now nearly featherless. With a dry, angry laugh at himself, he couldn’t help comparing them to overgrown chicken wings. The appendages were much longer than that of course, more around 15 feet on either side, but dragging on the ground. They were the colour of his skin, though slightly lighter, where the flesh could be seen properly beneath the scars and burns. There was a light dusting of hair, and though he couldn’t find a reason to explain there being any sort of hair, he didn’t think much more of it. There were some feathers left on the tips and more – though fewer – along the arm.

 

Dean stepped forward slowly, as though worried of frightening Castiel, though he knew Cas wasn’t going anywhere. He had the same look on his face he always did, though a bit more somber. Dean nearly yelped when Cas violently flinched, as though his approach could have caused such a thing. Blinking away his tears and letting them fall finally, Dean noticed the cause of the movement. Sam was inspecting an angle in Cas’s left wing that didn’t seem to be present in the right wing. 

 

 _Broken_.

 

“Sam!” Dean shouted, “Be careful, would you?”

 

Sam looked up and saw the look on Dean’s face, taking it as his cue to leave the room and find their first aid supplies. With a mumbled, “Sorry,” Sam backed away from the wing and nodded to Cas before walking away, leaving him alone with Dean.

 

Castiel looked up at him and beckoned him forward. Dean all but fell into his arms. 

 

“I’m so sorry, Cas,” Dean mumbled into his shoulder, wrapping his arms around Castiel’s waist, careful to avoid the wings growing out of his back. “God, I’m so sorry. You don’t even know –”

 

“It’s alright, Dean,” Castiel attempted to cheer him up. “I’ve become accustomed to this.”

 

“That’s not a good thing, man,” Dean huffed sardonically, “You shouldn’t have to get used to something like this. It’s like if I cut off your arm and just told you to get used to it.” He pulled back and let his hand hover over the break of the bone, “It’s actually healed like this,” he spoke in shock, “Cas! Your – it – Why... Why didn’t you ever say something about this? Couldn’t we have helped before now? Could we, I don’t know, have prevented any of this?”

 

“We might have,” Castiel nodded sagely, “but they were the price for so many things worth more than simple flight. Of course, they would have served us well, but we’ve managed without them so far and I am certain we will continue to do so.”

 

Dean sighed and glanced up, tears shining in his eyes again. He reached up toward the disk of light above Castiel’s head, but pulled away at the last second, as though afraid of being burned.

 

“You can touch it,” Castiel encouraged, “It might be a bit warm, but it will not burn you.” Dean looked back at him in surprise. “There was a time when touching this,” he reached up, and tapped a piece of the broken glass with his nail, making a sound like crystal wind chimes, “would have had much the same effect on a human as gazing upon my true form, but... Not anymore.”

 

Dean reached up again and tentatively pressed a single finger against the halo, before running his thumb along the outer edge of it. He shook his head in disbelief. Castiel was right, it was a bit warm to the touch, like sunlight on a spring day, but that it could not burn was just testament once more to how far Castiel had fallen – how far Dean had caused him to fall.

 

“ _Dean_ ,” Castiel said his name in that way that never failed to bring butterflies to his stomach. Dean didn’t feel like he deserved them at the moment, but he couldn’t help them. “Dean, no.”

 

He didn’t understand what Castiel was talking about until he heard a sound like a wounded, tortured animal coming from himself. Castiel pulled him closer and wrapped Dean in his arms.

 

“’m s’pposed to be taking care ‘f you,” Dean said into the crooked of Castiel’s neck, “Not like th’s.”

 

“It’s okay,” Castiel said gently, cupping the back up of his head, “I’m okay, Dean.”

 

“Are you though?” Dean stayed close, within the circle of Castiel’s arms, but pulled his head back, “Are you really?”

 

“Yes, Dean. I have you and Sam and... Mary also. We’re – a family. Aren’t we?”

 

“Yeah, I guess,” Dean nodded, “but there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you, Cas.”

 

Dean wasn’t thinking much anymore. Everything inside seemed to hurt and he felt like it must have been the same for Castiel. He placed his left hand gingerly on Cas’s jaw, stroking back and forth with his thumb.

 

“I should’a told you this so long ago,” Dean shook his head, “I’m sorry it’s taken so long. I’m sorry it took this...”

 

When words escaped him, Dean finally leaned forward and captured Castiel’s lips with his own. It was soft. It was scared. It was everything he’d wanted it to be. Castiel’s lips were smooth against his own, caring and waiting, not over-eager like all the girls he’d been with over the years. The hard skin and barely-there curve of his back provided the perfect resting place for Dean’s arm. The light stubble along Cas’s jaw, not something he was used to, but something he desperately wanted to _become_ used to.

 

“I fucking love you, Castiel,” Dean finally admitted. After years of quiet, though at times obvious pining, he _needed_ to admit it. “I love you so damn much. It physically hurts me to even think about losing you. God damn it, you can’t go doing shit like this anymore. Promise me, please. _Cas,_ ” Dean whispered into his ear.

 

Castiel nodded silently, lowering his head to Dean’s shoulder in return.

 

He promised. He knew how Dean felt. He couldn’t lose him either.

 

_I won’t let any of you die._

_You mean too much to me._

He hadn’t said those words for nothing. He meant them, and he would prove them, again and again if he had to. He just wouldn’t lose Dean again, even if it cost him everything he was. Even if it cost him his very being.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> insp.
> 
> Prompt: [post here](http://officieldestiel.tumblr.com/post/156895122864).  
> Halo: [post here](http://officieldestiel.tumblr.com/post/157369842119/thearronaut-broken-wings-broken-halo) \- just gave me the idea of a broken halo.  
> Wings: [image here](http://cdn0.lostateminor.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/This-fallen-angel-sculpture-looks-so-real-it%E2%80%99s-a-bit-disturbing6.jpg). 
> 
> For more information about my inspiration for Castiel’s featherless wings, look up: Sun Yuan and Peng Yu “Angel” Sculpture.


End file.
